


A Full Bucket

by Felrott



Series: 'Kinktober' 2020 Fills [8]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Erectile Dysfunction, M/M, Omorashi, Prostate Milking, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:06:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26924077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felrott/pseuds/Felrott
Summary: Day 8: WatersportsFlynn's having some trouble in the plumbing department, and Mathias knows just how to help.______Kinktober fic
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw
Series: 'Kinktober' 2020 Fills [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945906
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	A Full Bucket

**Author's Note:**

> Alt title; Two Pints of Water and an Impacted Prostate
> 
> Lmfao I'm running uhhh 2 days late now I think, and it's p much bc oh look I'm supposed to be doing fills that are max 800 words and yet here we are... W/e it'll work out in the end i'm sure.... Who needs nano....
> 
> It's 4am here and my mate is helping me edit this to post tonight and... they stopped counting the commas they added after 27.... God bless them...
> 
> Also, didn't intend to do two soft cock fics for october fills but here we are, and who knows there'll probaly be more coming lmao I dunno i just think they're cute...
> 
> Today's content warnings!: Omoroshi/Flynn can't piss and Shaw helps, actually it's p tame now i think about it. Absolutely bs science in this one guys I couldn’t be arsed researching too much so just take it

“Back in just a second!” Flynn tries to ignore the concerned look Mathias shoots him as he pushes through the crowd of the tavern, to run off to the outhouse for the third time in the space of an hour. It’s nothing worth any concern, really, nothing he hasn’t had to deal with before. Though that time, he hadn’t been hoping to crawl into Mathias' bed (and trousers) later on in the evening. But, it was fine. Mathias would understand if he wasn’t in the mood. Or, maybe he’d manage to hide his uncooperative dick, try his little trick and fake it again. No big deal.

His dick was so much more cooperative these days, however. He’d only had to get creative a handful of times while with Mathias.

But still, that was a separate problem entirely to the one currently at hand. Well, _in_ his hand. Refusing to obey him. Refusing to just _bloody empty his bladder already_. The ache was building like a storm; he’d needed to piss for an hour or so by now, but the plumbing refused to _listen,_ and he could feel the last drink he’d had settling in, only adding to his discomfort.

At this rate, he won’t even be able to finish the tankard of ale he’s left with Mathias, and that would be the _real_ travesty of the night.

Alas, his dick refuses to work, no matter how much he tries to relax. He wiggles it, slaps it, and curses at it to no avail. And so, with a groan, he just tucks himself back into his trousers and wipes his hands on his thighs. Oh actually; the last time he didn’t wash his hands, Mathias had somehow known, and had had _plenty_ of things to say about it, none of them nice. With a tut, he gives his fingers a cursory rinse under the leaky tap outside, and dries them on his trousers before heading back into the tavern.

Okay fine, no more drinking tonight. Mathias probably wouldn’t… Well, of course he’d notice, but he might not comment on it. Besides, sometimes Mathias liked to cut him off early anyway, especially if he’d planned for some... _weirder_ things in bed that night. Maybe he could use that angle, if it was brought up.

As Flynn approaches the table, Mathias' brow furrows in genuine concern. “Are you okay?” Mathias asks, and Flynn’s heart feels so light and giddy all of a sudden, he can’t even bring himself to lie.

“S’fine, just the uhh, drink. Well, not the drink, the... plumbing... if you get my drift.” He casually waves it off with a hand as he settles back at their table. He takes the opportunity to drag his stool a little closer to Mathias'. “It’ll be fine though, nothing a little fresh air won’t fix by tomorrow.”

“...You can’t piss?” Mathias says it so bluntly it’s a shock, and Flynn’s nodding before he can stop himself. Mathias hums, looking thoughtful as he takes a sip of ale from his tankard. “Drink some water, it’ll help.”

“I _really_ don’t think it will, pouring water into a full bucket and all that.”

“Is that a saying around here? I’m not familiar with it,” he waves a server down, some young lad the barkeep likely doesn't have to pay much. “Two pints of water, if you will.” Flynn can’t stop the fond smile when Mathias tosses the lad an extra coin for his troubles, like he isn’t getting paid to be there.

“It’s like, well the bucket is full, right? So it’s a waste to pour more in. Just makes a mess. Kul Tiran uh, sayings aren’t exactly too out there. I’ve heard some of yours, y’know? Altogether too much talk of lions and gnolls if you ask me.”

“Mmhm.” Mathias just smiles at him in his lopsided way, more a quirk of his moustache than anything, and Flynn’s too enamoured to say no when Mathias pushes the pint of water into his hands and tells him to drink. He’s halfway down before he realises.

“Not sure I can manage much more, love.”

“Just sip at it. Tell me some more phrases, even the sex ones if you like.”

“Oh, well now that I _can_ do! Okay, so you know what a siren is right? And a ballgag...”

0000000

He regrets it all. Absolutely everything. Falling for Mathias' soft looks most of all, that he’d trusted and not questioned every time Mathias had nodded at him to take a sip. Two pints, gone in a half hour, while they talked about trivial shite like _regional names for plants_.

Tides, but he needs to piss. Tidemother herself _help_ him, but he still can’t, can’t stop himself from whining when Mathias pushes up behind him and presses on his bladder through his clothes.

“Love, I’m not above much, but I am above pissing on my own front door. Give me a second here!”

Mathias doesn’t, just reaches to press a kiss against the back of Flynn’s neck that has him stumbling inside, just as much as the hard push against his bladder does.

“Right, okay, make yourself comfortable. I just need to run out and-” Flynn doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Mathias has the door shut and locked, and Flynn curses his past self, who decided he’d rent a place with no indoor lav. Cheap rent was not worth the ache he was feeling right now. “Love, really…”

“Come here.” The soft look Mathias gives him doesn’t match the hardness of his voice. Flynn follows, like Mathias' a siren himself. “Let’s get this off, we don’t want to ruin your clothes.” Flynn’s coat falls to the floor. Shirt. Belt. Trousers and boots, scattered wherever they drop as Mathias unwraps him slowly like he’s some sort of… Flynn can’t think of a good comparison. A candy? A Winterveil gift? Whatever it is, it’s slow and gentle and he feels his heart swell in his chest at how cherished he feels, but _fuck_ it aches. He can’t concentrate on the soft kisses against his neck and chest. The slightest movement jostles too much, and it edges from an ache into sharp jabs of pain in his bladder. Whatever he babbles to Mathias is ignored though, and he ends up tripping backwards onto his own messy bed.

He manages to get Mathias to stop for long enough to pull whatever hard object was digging into his--oh, a spyglass? That’d leave an interesting bruise later.

He thinks he should be more annoyed that Mathias' still fully dressed, but it’s kind of hot in its own way, especially when Mathias pulls up the sleeves of his shirt. Not much compares to the tight leather and corsetry of his armour, but this is still pretty damn good.

What a world, where Mathias' bloody forearms are enough to get his dick twitching in interest. Twitching. Not even half hard yet. Flynn flushes when he realises how it must look.

“I swear I’m into it love, little Flynn’s just having some issues is all. Something in the water, I think.”

“I would beg you never to say that again.” Mathias bites lightly at his nipple, then harder, with enough of a tug to have Flynn arching off the bed with a gasp. He tugs again, letting go at the last moment before it becomes too much, before soothing it with a kiss. Fuck. _Fuck_ but it was good. “Besides, I’m fairly certain it’s the drink, not the water that’s causing this.”

“Huh?” The words don’t register to Flynn, too caught between the biological need in his groin and the sharp sensations of pleasure at his chest.

“All that alcohol, ruining your body and your dick’s the first thing to go.”

“Mmm… No, I'm pretty sure it’s the water. No good pirate is ever caught sober, y’know.”

Another bite to his other nipple, the pierced one, and Flynn can’t stop himself from grabbing Mathias' hair and tugging when he bites hard around the little loop of metal. Another kiss to soothe, and Flynn finds himself bucking up, rubbing against Mathias' thigh, even if his dick isn’t cooperating yet.

“I’m not convinced you were ever a good pirate, Flynn. Not in the sense you want people to think. Roll over for me.” Mathias pats his hip, encourages him to roll and get on his knees. The bed shakes beneath them as they move; its rotten legs are pushed to the brink every time Mathias visits and, one of these days, Mathias' going to fuck him so hard, it’ll collapse with them on it. Flynn can’t wait to see Mathias' face when it finally happens.

Perhaps it will happen tonight. Mathias' behind him, after all. Maybe, if he’s clever about it, Mathias will forget about his soft little-- no, _large_ problem. Flynn can put on a damned good show even at the worst of times, and desperate to piss and unable to get it up is actually ranking surprisingly high on his ‘good nights in’ record.

He bends in a way which was described as ‘whorish’ by someone years ago, though he’d never had any complaints about it. Chest and face in his pillow, knees spread wide, and ass up and on show, ready for, uh... _plundering_.

He’s glad he didn’t say that out loud. Sometimes there’s a line it’s better not to cross.

By now Mathias knows where the oil is kept. And the toys. And the books that are more interesting for their pictures than their words. Although, he has to admit, the time Mathias had read a few pages out loud, he had suddenly understood the true value of the written word.

He’s braced for Mathias' dick, ready for the pressure and fullness. Gods but he’s practically _drooling_ for it. He has to move the pillow to a dry spot.

When the cool oil drips against his ass, he chokes on a breath, waits, and is surprised when he feels two of Mathias' slim fingers push inside, slipping in easy as you like. It’s not unwelcome, just unexpected, but then Mathias seems to be playing this a little gentler than usual.

“Don’t think you need to prep me, love. My ass is the perfect shape of your cock by now, I’d reckon.” He gasps when Mathias slips in a third finger. It’s not a harsh stretch, but Mathias is a little rough about it. So much for playing gentle.

“You think you deserve my cock tonight, do you?”

“Oh! Is it that game tonight? Sign me up, I mean uh. Yessir! Wait... no sir?” Mathias spreads his fingers, and Flynn whines in his throat like a damned dog as he bucks back into it, spearing himself deeper. It’s not deep enough though, not even as he fucks himself back onto Mathias' hand, begging with his body. “Oh tides Matt, love, I mean sir! What was the question? What’s the answer? Whatever you want love, please!”

The ache in his bladder is background noise to the rising pleasure, which is why he has to muffle a yell into the pillow when Mathias stops him with a tight hand on his hip. He’s certain his garbled noise doesn’t come out as a question, but Mathias answers him nonetheless.

“There’s a fix for your problem, and it involves a lot of water, and this,” he angles his middle finger and pushes hard against _that bit_ inside his ass that has Flynn groaning into the pillow. “ _The_ _prostate”_ , Mathias had told him once, offended that Flynn didn’t know the word for it, as if Flynn knew (or cared) what was inside him, other than his stomach. He cared a lot more about it these days, he had to admit.

“Medic didn’t say anything about this…” he groans out, head to the side, as he has no choice but to lie and get prodded by Mathias. Any time he tries to twitch back onto his hand, Mathias swats the swell of ass lightly, which isn’t exactly a deterrent, but he gets the message. Unfortunately, the constant pressure is a little too much and he whines a complaint. “Love, not that you can’t have too much of a good thing but-”

“Shh love.” Mathias' voice is gentle, but he doesn’t stop. The swelling of Flynn’s heart at the endearment is more than enough to stop his complaints. Gods he’s got it bad. “That ‘medic’ you see is little more than a brute with a hacksaw. I can feel it, you’re swollen, and it’s likely interfering with everything else down here.”

“Not sure your prodding is gonna help…”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Before Flynn can even get a word out, Mathias ramps up the pressure, fucks his ass with his fingers like it’s a competition, every push in hitting _that part,_ and the shooting spasms of pain/pleasure are all too much. Mathias has to hold Flynn with an arm around his thighs to stop him from writhing.

When Flynn sobs out a soft plea, for _more no stop no wait keep going please harder_ , Mathias presses a kiss to the reddened skin of his ass, and fucks him harder.

It ends suddenly, except it doesn’t. There’s a pause, and Flynn feels like he sort of... came-but-didn’t, like the pleasure reached higher and higher and then just… dipped. Except, he’d felt himself squirt out _something_ , and with a huff, he manages to prop himself up to look underneath and... Well. That was weird.

He feels squirmy, like he needs to come, but it’s not right. When Mathias lets his thighs go, he flops down and twists to pout at him.

“Is it fixed then?” It doesn’t feel fixed. His dick is still a sorry state, just sort of.. Laying there. The head was starting to peak past the foreskin, at least, but it was not exactly a raging example of manhood. Does Mathias know what happened, or can he pretend he came? For once, perhaps, it’s best to not say anything.

“A couple more times. Arms, up please.” Mathias just asks him, like he’s asking him to pass a cup. All nonchalant, like he hasn’t just been fingering his ass like his life depended on it. It’s… it’s hot. Not as hot as when he uses his Spymaster Authority Figure Voice, because nothing can beat _that_ , but it’s more than enough to have Flynn obeying.

The cuffs slip around his wrists before he can blink.

Okay, not the weirdest thing. He can get into this, especially when Mathias finally starts stripping himself down. His civilian clothes are treated as respectfully as his leathers, folded and put on the table, which grants Flynn the perfect view of his backside. Flynn’s mouth waters at the sight. Mathias' trim body, wiry and dusted in pale red hair, with the odd flash of silver here and there. He’s traced every scar with his tongue enough times that he can feel them as he looks at them, and wants his mouth on them again now, please and thank you.

The look in Mathias' eyes suggests that it’s not on the cards for tonight, though. When Mathias brings a towel over, Flynn is confused, and his words suddenly catch up to him.

“Wait, ‘a couple more times’? I already came once, that’s a bit optimistic don’t you think?”

“Did it feel like you came?” Mathias settles back between Flynn’s thighs, fingers newly oiled up. Flynn tries to close his legs, but it’s a half-hearted effort and Mathias settles in easily, pushes his fingers back up Flynn’s ass without so much as a _by your leave_.

It’s tender, sore. Feels good but weird, and curse Mathias, but Flynn’s already getting into it again despite his grievances. Oh, yes, he’d asked another question…

“I dunno, kinda? But like, I’ll be honest Mathias. It was kind of... shit? I’m not sure I’m into this, whatever this is…”

“It’s a mental thing, rather than physical. Even so, you drank yourself into this mess, Flynn, surely you can stand to help yourself out of it.” Mathias' eyes darken, his moustache quirks and Flynn knows he’s in for it. Fuck. Lay it on him. “What am I supposed to do with you if your cock doesn’t work?” Oh, yeah, that’s a zing right to the gut, a curl of pleasure in the humiliation.

“Matt…” The hammering in his ass feels painful, sore. He squirms, but Mathias' hand on his thigh stops him. He’s ‘coming’ again before he realises, the milky weird not-cum splatters his stomach, and he breathes a sigh of relief that it’s done.

Except it isn’t. Mathias doesn’t stop this time, just keeps prodding and watching. Flynn tugs on the bonds, jerks and kicks when it’s painful, a burn in his ass that matches the burn in his bladder. It’s an odd mix of feelings, all of them bad, but Mathias keeps talking him through it.

“How am I supposed to ride you until you can’t see, if you can’t even get it up properly?” Oh shit, it’s hot as much as it’s shameful. The thought is chased away with another stab. “Your ass is fine love, but you know I’m possessive. I want all of you.” It’s enough to have him ‘coming’ again, little more than a dribble. Tides it hurts, and he sobs. He’s pretty sure there’s drool on his chin, messing up his little beard.

“M-Matt… love… Oh fuck, love, this is…” He can’t speak, can’t get a thought out. Only Mathias can fuck him speechless. It’s both a gift, and a curse. There’s a sudden pressure, the burning and ache cut through with a sharp pain. He needs to _go_ , now. “Mattie please, lemme go, gotta-fuck! Mathias!”

Mathias doesn’t stop, looks eager in fact, if Flynn is seeing right through the stars in his eyes. The hand holding his leg moves then, brushes his neglected balls on the way up, cups his half-hard dick and pets him gently like an animal before he turns harsh and cruel as he pushes down on Flynn’s bladder.

“Go then, love.” Another push, and Flynn’s caught between his hands and he can’t stop himself. He’s coming, except he’s not, it just feels so good he might as well be.

It’s _the best piss_ of Flynn Fairwind’s goddamn life, and it’s in his own bed, with his lover watching. It’s hot and weird and it goes bloody everywhere, a hot stream over his chest and, with the way he’s angled, it dribbles down his back and into his armpits. It’s uncomfortable and disgusting, but Mathias is enamoured, and that’s _another_ curl of pleasure amongst the humiliation.

It seems to go on forever, too, but then he’s been needing to go for hours by now. Every time he thinks it might stop, Mathias fucks his fingers in again, making Flynn see stars, and more just seems to come from nowhere. His bed must be ruined, but he’s beyond caring, especially when Mathias takes the opportunity to just slip himself inside.

It takes him a minute to realise that the dull throbbing pain of Mathias thrusting is from his dick and not his fingers. He doesn’t even really realise it until Mathias is looming over him, kissing him like he wants to drown in him. Both his hands stroke over Flynn’s hips, his waist, everywhere they can touch, spreading piss around like Mathias wants to cover him in it.

It’s as disgusting as it is painfully hot, and Flynn can’t help but buck up into every thrust, every touch. Tides he wants to bury his hands in Mathias' hair, drag him closer but he can’t. He has to settle for trying to devour Mathias with his mouth, for wrapping thighs around him as tight as he can, and pulling him as close as possible.

Mathias always comes so quietly, always just a stutter of his hips before he grinds in as deep as he can go, and today is no different. Flynn loves his soft little grunt, the only sound he’ll allow himself, and kisses anything he can reach, his lips, his cheeks, his chin, before he flops back with a moan of his own.

Flynn’s not even sure if he came or not, but it was damned well good enough, and he’s not sure he has the stamina for another round. He tugs on the cuffs holding his arms up, twists and then... oh, okay they weren’t even locked. He refuses to acknowledge it, simply chucks them off to the side to finally bring his arms around Mathias as he collapses against him. 

“You good?” He can finally get his hands in Mathias’ hair, and he takes full advantage. He could sleep, he's so exhausted but also… “We need to uh, I mean I’ll try anything, love, you know that. And that _was_ pretty great, but not sure I can stomach sleeping in it, y’know?”

He gets a nod in answer, but Mathias doesn't move, just hugs him tighter and buries his face into Flynn’s neck. Flynn manages to enjoy it for all of five minutes before the piss starts to cool on his skin, make him uncomfortable and... 

“Tides, I stink. You stink too now. C’mon, let’s uh…”

“Washcloth, then back to mine?” Mathias mumbles into his neck, and finally starts to move. Flynn gets to enjoy seeing him wrinkle his nose when he looks down at himself. “Mine and a bath. Gods, you bring out the worst in me.”

“And you bring out the pi-- wait, no. Ignore that. Let me try for something sexier…”

“Flynn…” Mathias’ attempt to sound stern is belied by the soft smile on his lips, and it’s all Flynn can do not to tug him down and crush him in his arms, sticky mess be damned.

“Matt,” he settles for reaching up for a kiss. “You’re into some weird shit, y’know? And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” That wasn’t sexy either, but it was true, and really the way Mathias blushed was the sexiest reward of all.


End file.
